Here for the Holidays
by Lucinda
Summary: Willow enjoys the holiday... or does she?  Slightly AU after Becoming. This was in response to a WA holiday fic challenge.


Author: Lucinda rating: pg, pg 13?  
pairing: Willow/Angel disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from BtVS.  
Distribution: WLS/WillAngel, Bite Me, Please, NHA, WWW, anyone else ask first, I'll probably say yes.  
spoilers for season 2, although everyone probably knows ALL about season 2...  
Summary: Holiday wishes for Willow.

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Willow sat on the leather couch, her long green velvet gown making the faintest hissing noise as it rubbed over the leather. The air was filled with the scent of pine and candle wax, garlands of recently cut pine were draped around the walls, and a tree towered in the corner, hung with shimmering golden and crystal ornaments, pale white lights glowing on it's branches. Candles in white, cream and yellow were placed all over the room, and there was a large fire crackling in the fireplace before her.

The mansion, once so brooding and dismal, had been transformed from Angelus' den of marauding vampires to a warm and welcoming place, filled with light and hope for a delightful future. There was even a gleaming menorah settled in one corner, across from the Christmas tree, an acknowledgment of her heritage as well as his. She smiled, thinking that the holiday decorations seemed to be utterly complete.

But there was still something missing. Frowning slightly, Willow tried to place what could possibly be wrong as she sat on the couch, her body draped in jade green velvet, her hair reflecting the firelight until it looked almost like flames. She sipped from her mug of spiced cider, it's fragrance adding to the whole holiday feeling.

"I hope you haven't been waiting too long, my flame." Her beloved's voice carried from the shadows behind her, and caressed her soul as his hands had caressed her body so many times before.

As he walked into the light, she smiled. He had worn the leather pants, just for her. Nobody else liked to see him in them, considering them a reminder of... something unpleasant that she couldn't quite recall just now. But the sight of him so often played havoc on her memory, and as he stood just now, with the chocolate leather molding to his legs, and a shirt of cranberry silk skimming over the muscles of his chest and arms, his dark hair still tousled from his slumber? She had no hope of thinking of mundane and petty troubles.

"I'd wait eternity for you, my love. You look... wow." She smiled, hoping that he could be half as affected by the sight of her as she was by seeing him.

His smile held just a hint of near predatory interest as he moved to sit beside her, deftly settling her onto his lap. Willow could only smile contentedly as she snuggled into his arms, her head resting beneath his chin.

She was here, with her beloved Angel. He was here with her, and would never leave her, never choose another instead. What more could she possibly need or desire? Her life was perfect. Even the fact that her beloved was a formerly Catholic vampire was no more than an aspect of the depth and wonder of their relationship.

But still, the feeling lingered. A subtle, persistent feeling that there was something wrong, something was not as it appeared. Why did she smell floor cleaner?

Whatever it was, it couldn't be anything too important. The fact that she was deliriously in love hadn't made her into an idiot after all. If it was that important, it would eventually come to her.

Looking in on Miss Rosenberg, Nurse Helen Michaels sighed. It was so sad that she hadn't woke up. The poor girl had been in a coma since the end of May, and the doctors were uncertain when she would wake up, or even if she would ever regain consciousness. Now, it was almost Christmas. She had a young man, possibly a boyfriend that visited every week, a sad eyed boy with dark hair that looked about the same age as the poor girl. Her parents had never visited the hospital, not even once. But someone had left a small pine wreath on her door, and a small pot of poinsettias by her table.

It hadn't been the boy, it was long past visiting hours. But it seemed that there was at least one other soul that cared what happened to the lovely redhead. Lord knew the girl could use all the concern that she could get. Glancing once more at the girl, she noticed the faintest smile flicker over her face, as if she were simply dreaming, a modern day Sleeping Beauty awaiting her Prince to come and wake her.

"May you have pleasant dreams, if nothing else, Willow Rosenberg."

With luck, she would eventually emerge from her coma. With a bit more, she would have all of her mind and memories intact. Then, and only then, would the poor girl be able to set about rebuilding her life, to possibly bring to life the dreams that danced beneath her eyelids.

Shaking her head sadly, Helen Michaels continued her rounds. There were more patients to check. In Sunnydale, there were always more patients.

end.


End file.
